Tangled in Secrets
by LittlexKitten
Summary: Hermione has a secret some are willing do die for, and the Malfoy family has spent centuries dying to find it again. Dramione, AU, Slight Ron bashing, Mature, violence, suggestive themes, swearing. Tribute to 'Tangled'.


This is my first attempt towards a fanfiction in a while, and I'm not very sure on how this will turn out, but I hope that the fanfiction community will help me figure it out every step of the way!

**Summary:** Hermione holds an ancient secret that the Malfoy family has been searching for centuries. AU, slight Ron bashing, M, adult themes, and a slight OOC Hermione. A more magical twist to Disney's 'Tangled', a Dramione fanfiction.

**Warning:** This fiction contains adult themes, violence, sexual content, swearing, and vulgar implications. If you cannot handle it, then I suggest turning back now.

**Disclaimer:** I am not making a profit off of this fanfictions, and all related characters and themes go to J.K. Rowling and Walt Disney respectively. I'm just doing this for fun.

**"I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you ****_want _****to keep in, and the kind you don't ****_dare_**** to let out."**

― Ally Carter

Jean Granger hated hospitals. It probably started when she was five when she tripped and cut herself on a nail that was protruding out of a board on the ground nearby; she had to get 5 stitches. Perhaps it was when she was 7 and rode her bike without her training wheels because her father wasn't quick enough for her patience to last, and resulted in her crashing into the neighbor's mailbox. She broke her arm and was in a cast for weeks, always seeing doctors who would make her move her achy arm and take those nasty pills. Or, to top it all off, when she got pregnant and had to visit the doctors every couple of weeks to ensure that the baby was fine, to face the anxiety of the possibility that she could potentially walk out of that towering building of misery and needles without her baby. It was enough to drive any woman mad, and Jean hated it.

Richard Granger, however, was excited to be in the hospital. Perhaps because he was fascinated with all the technology around him, for he had once aspired to be a doctor when he was younger. Or maybe because his mother had received excellent care here before, so he did not worry as much as Jean did. Even more so, it was probably because his daughter would be arriving. Oh, he and Jean had wanted to know the gender beforehand. "It's practical," Jean had said. "We need to know what color the nursery is going to be and buy clothes beforehand."

"Will. You. Stop. Smiling." Jean hissed at her husband, taking deep breaths. Another contraction- ouch. Richard winced, but the smile remained as he held out his hand for her to grip. "Not another one, dear husband of mine, we're stopping at this one. I mean it!" He didn't dare do it, but he wanted to chuckle. He knew she was saying that because of the pain, but he had no intention of making this any harder on him. Richard looked at the paper that was coming out of the machine and then at his wife. He could feel that something was off. Jean Granger had only been in labor for about 3 hours, and she wasn't dilated enough to start pushing, not at least for another 6 or 7, the doctors had said. Luckily for them, it was 8 in the morning, and they had all day.

"I'll go get you a nurse," he reassured her. "She'll give you some pain medication and maybe some ice."

Jean's face relaxed. "Ice would be nice," she admitted, wiping the beginnings of beaded sweat off her forehead. "It is quite hot in here, and my throat is parched." Richard smiled and opened the door, heading off to the little machine the nurse directed him to with a large cup in hand, nearly skipping with joy. Today, he would be a father. He hoped that his little girl would have her mothers caramel eyes, soft and sweet. He hoped she'd have her mothers intelligence, and her mothers beautiful, smooth brunette hair: if she got stuck with his curly mess, he could only imagine how difficult it'd be for her. But most of all, he wanted to do everything right, to raise her right, and to allow her to grow. Reaching the ice machine and filling it with the crushed ice, he turned back towards the elevator to wait, before a nurse stood next to him, also waiting. When the doors opened, and he pushed the number 4, the woman smiled at him.

"Expecting a new arrival?"

He grinned. "First born, a girl."

She smiled back. "I work in the maternity wing, it's always a blessing to see new parents hold their child for the first time."

Richard smiled back and was about to launch into a discussion with the woman when a loud beeping noise, obviously a pager, erupted from the woman's uniform. Alarmed, he watched the blonde read the message with alarm before rushing out the elevator doors the moment they opened, to her left. Worried, Richard followed to the left, and broke into a run when he watched the same nurse enter his wife's room. He pushed himself in, clutching the cup of ice with desperation. "My wife, is she alright?!"

The nurse and doctor turned to look at him, the doctor being a tall brunette woman by the name of Dr. Sandra Lee, who had been working with the couple since conception, and had assured them that everything was fine. "It seems your wife is coming down with an illness while in labor," she explained to him, her eyebrows furrowed over the charts she had on a clipboard. "Such strain on her body weakens her, and increase susceptibility to virus' and other immune attacks. With the right antibiotics, your wife should be fit again, but for now, she is weak." Dr. Lee looked up at the tormented husband's face, trying to look reassuring. "We need to run some tests so that we can find the right medication for her so it does not harm the baby. I'll have to ask you to sit outside, Mr. Granger." The nurse smiled sadly at him before escorting him out and closing the door. Richard paced up and down the hallway, settling on slumping on the ground with the cup of ice still in hand, the ice starting to melt.

It felt like hours. And hours.

Until the door opened. He shot up quick and walked straight to the doctor, but stopped short. The look on her face was pale, and her eyes were red: Dr. Lee was not just their doctor, but a family friend, and Richard could feel his heart racing when she opened her mouth. "Your wife isn't responding to treatment, and she's progressively getting worse and worse." she began slowly, as if she herself was still coming to terms with it. "We cannot identify what is ailing her, and I'm afraid.." she swallowed and looked into the eyes of the man whose irises reflected torment. "Your wife is dying, Richard. And if this keeps progressing, the baby may not make it. If we rush the delivery, the chance the child may die is too high. I'm sorry."

The ice cup dropped to the floor.

* * *

He paced the streets outside the hospital, his mind numb. He was going to lose his wife and child in the same day, and there was nothing he could do within his power to stop it. The doctors were placing their bets on his wife fighting off the illness, but Richard knew his wife; she was strong, but she never coped well with being sick. A mere flu took her weeks to get over. He prayed for the first time in many years, and he hoped and hoped for a miracle. But this wasn't a hallmark movie, there were no angels in the streets, no fairy godmother who could wave her magical wand and make everything alright again. So as it began to rain on his parade, literally, he walked onto the trails nearby the hospital. He kicked at a branch on the ground, and another, and another, until he pounded the muddy ground and cried. He felt the sobs ripping at his heart, at his very being. He would never get to hold his wife when they were sixty and old, surrounded by grandchildren. His whole life he had envisioned with Jean Granger was going up in smokes, and he was powerless to stop it. He picked up a larger branched and tossed it, watching it hit a lump on the ground before being perpetually blinded by a brilliant burst of light.

Shielding his eyes, he fell back, squinting through the light towards the source. It was a plant, a flower, to be more exact. It glowed a bright yellow, its' petals bright and fertile, traced with a bright red pattern that brought tears to his eyes with how beautiful it was. It was supported by a dainty, yet sturdy stem implanted in the ground, its' leaves supporting the petals towards the falling rain. This flower was untainted by dirty water, mud, or dirt stains, and remained utterly pure and upright even as the rain pelted down from the heavens. Richard shuffled closer to it on his knees and inhaled, before opening his eyes in shock. He felt...rejuvenated, strong..fresh. Like he did when he was teenager. He cupped his hands around the bulb of the flower before jumping in shock: the stems and leaves had vanished! He looked up, closed his eyes as the raindrops gently fell like teardrops down his face, and gave his thanks.

Gently placing the flower into his jacket pocket, he made his way back to the fourth floor maternity wing to his dying wife.

* * *

"Mr. Granger, if there was ever a time to say goodbye..." Dr. Lee put her hand on his shoulder. "Now would be the time. She's awake, and waiting for you." Richard didn't look at the woman eye to eye. He couldn't let her see the hope there. He couldn't allow her to know, lest she try to stop him. He just nodded, and walked through the door, acting like any grieving husband would, and closed it for privacy. He needed it, for what he was about to do. He had to think about what he would do first, it wouldn't do to mess up. The doctor said that his wife wouldn't eat anything, that only liquids were appealing to the sickness. So that's what he would give her. Pouring some soothing, cold honey with the ground up flower, he examined the slightly glowing beverage, before approaching his wife.

"Jean.."

She smiled weakly at him, her small hand reaching up for his overlapping one, which he clasped gently. "It's okay Richard, it's okay." She let a tear slip down her face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't strong-." He placed a finger against her lips. "Jean, you're not going to die."

"Richard-."

"No, let me explai-."

"The doctors already said.."

"The doctors weren't anticipating me finding this."

Richard quickly relayed what happened, watching the clock anxiously. He told her about the flower, about how he felt when he inhaled it, and how he thought that this could be the miracle that they were looking for. "Jean, they're already writing you off. If you don't try this, you die, so what would be the harm in doing so if the worst possibly outcome is the same for both scenarios?" He looked desperately into his wife's beautiful eyes, hoping that she'd see the same thing he was. He was counting on this.

"I will."

He beamed. And pressed the cup gently to his wife's parched lips, watching her drink the soothing mixture. After they finished, they waited, and they waited. Like magic, Jean began to look less sick, and more glowing. Her face was no longer flushed with sweat, but with health, and her eyes weren't dull with grief, but with life. Richard called the doctor in, who checked Jean's vitals with a flourish. "I..I don't understand!" Dr. Lee was baffled, as she was still coming to terms beforehand that Mrs. Granger was going to die. "Your vitals and tests are coming back as healthy. I've never seen anything like this!" She smiled to them. "It looks like you'll be delivering your baby within the next couple of hours.

And so they did.

And neither chose to comment on why their daughter's beautiful curly brunette hair was streaked bright blonde.

* * *

**A/N: Please let me know how I did! I'd love to see some feedback on the potential of what this story could be! I'm hoping to not slack off on my writing, so the more reviews and feedback I get, the more I am motivated to press on! Thanks!**


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